Archive for June, 2007
Kiva Social Entrepreneurs
Before arriving in Malaba as a Kiva fellow, one of the assumptions I had about the businesses is that they would be entirely profit driven. Considering the economic situation that most of the clients here are living in, I could only imagine that people’s efforts would be entirely focused on making enough money to support their own family. I have met a few people who have shattered this misconception.
One of those people is Mark Ochubi, who has provided herbal medicine to over 500 clients in Malaba for the past three years. Mark trained at the School for Alternative Medicine in Kenya, and uses herbs from all over the country to treat the multitude of health problems that Malaba faces, including syphilis, typhoid, stomach ulcers, arthritis, sickle cell anemia, malaria, AIDS, and asthma. While herbal medicine has been stigmatized and rebuked by many because of colonialism, traditional herbal medicine plays a crucial role in health care in Africa. Many maintain that its effectiveness has been proven over thousands of years, and people continue to trust it for their urgent medical needs with success.
Malaba is a border town with Uganda, and serves as the gateway to Eastern and Central Africa. Consequently, there is a constant flow of trucks passing through the town, and spending the night. Malaba’s role as a truck stop, paired with its serious poverty, has resulted in rampant prostitution, and as a result a rampant HIV infection rate. Mark explains that Malaba is one of the towns most affected by HIV-AIDS in Kenya, and estimates that over 50 percent of the inhabitants are infected. (When he told me this, I was absolutely shocked. I had been staying in Malaba for the 4 weeks, and no one had even mentioned the prevalence of HIV in the town. Beyond being shocked, it made me reconsider the time I had been spending in Malaba. How could I have gone on conducting interviews and trying to get a real perspective on businesses without knowing this crucial fact about the community. I really felt as if I had been walking around blind for four weeks. My shock turned to skepticism about the validity of Mark’s estimate. When I asked the people in the PEMCI office if they believed it was true, many of them thought that it was at least 50%. I really was in disbelief—walking around, I would have no idea that the community was so devastated by the epidemic. Maybe I’m incredibly naïve, but I haven’t seen any funerals, and there is no sense of tragedy, or even death. Its not something that is really even talked about, which I would expect if it were affecting so much of the community. There’s an NGO in Malaba that addresses the epidemic, and I’m going to try to confirm the statistic.)
Back to Mark—he directly addresses the problem of HIV-AIDS in Malaba by providing healthcare to those people who suffer from it. In fact, he tells me that many of his clients have tried the ARV treatment from health clinics, and have even come to prefer his herbal treatment.
In talking to Mark about his business, he made it clear to me that profit was a secondary motivation. Yes, at the end of the day he wants to make enough to support his family, but his principle goal is to serve the community. That is why he allows for a sliding scale of costs so that his treatment can be available to as many people as possible. This has been essential in allowing him to serve 500 people over the past three years.
Another social entrepreneur that I have come across is Florence Kaluuba, who left a job as a teacher at a prestigious secondary school to start empowerment programs for young women who are dropouts, teen mothers, or come from troubled homes. You can read more about Florence in my Kiva journal for her.
Thousands of connections
Imagine a world without Walgreens, Macy’s, Banana Republic, Nordstrom’s, Blockbuster, Ethan Allen, Starbucks, Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Safeway or Whole Foods. Instead of driving to your favorite mall or grocery store to buy clothes, food or supplies from a salesperson working for a corporation, you walk down the dirt road to your local market to buy goods from a neighbor, friend or acquaintance. Instead of one-stop shopping, you stop at several different stores to pick up all the supplies you need, relishing each transaction by engaging in conversation and slowly passing over the bills and coins for payment. Each purchase you make goes directly to supporting their family. And you count on them coming to your stop when they need the things you sell. This is the cycle of loyalty that I’ve observed during my time in Dar es Salaam and I have to admit, it’s a bit refreshing.
Dar is a big city, over four million people, and yet the suburbs of this city still retain a strong sense of community. Most of the suburbs I visit are only a few kilometers out of town, yet it can take over an hour or more to travel from the city center because of the constant traffic jams. So even though members of these communities could go downtown to the big markets and wholesale stores to buy their goods at a cheaper price, the transport costs are prohibitive. As you travel down the main road of any neighborhood you pass several shops competing to sell you the same types of goods. You’ll find hardware supplies, furniture stores, groceries, butchers, salons, pharmacies, clothing stores, movie rentals, internet cafes and restaurants. Sometimes I wonder how all of these businesses make money, since there is so much competition. But each business doesn’t need to make more than enough to support one family.
In addition to these store-based businesses, there is another tier of business-minded individuals who try to eek out their living by selling just one item. It’s common to find young men walking abound the city selling only samosas or tea or small bags of peanuts. There are women and men who walk the residential neighborhoods with baskets filled with one product (fish, lettuce, bananas) hoping to entice you to buy that one item from them by shouting their offerings while they walk past your door. This economy includes so many of these micro transactions. Even cigarettes are sold individually at the local cold drink stand. Every space for a middle man has been exploited and developed into an enterprise. This is done out of necessity, not choice.
Sure, there are a few corporations in Tanzania – banks, mobile phone providers, prepared foods and drinks, utilities – where you must buy services directly to cover their costs and staff. But even some of them have outsourced their distribution of goods to small businesses. You buy a mobile phone voucher from a local shop or guy on the street and bottled food from the micro grocery on the corner of your block.
As I observed this interdependency, I tried to cut my ties to my old ways. I stopped buying at one of the few supermarkets in town and started purchasing things from my local store. I walked the streets of my residential area trying to spend money with each business I passed along the way. I rented movies, had my bangs trimmed, bought mangos from the mango guy and lettuce from the lettuce lady. I met the people of my neighborhood. We shared smiles and elementary Swahili sentences. I handed over the money with respect, enjoying counting coins and handling grubby bills. When my purse was empty and my hands were full, I went home satisfied and feeling more accepted.
Is this more personalized economy better than what we have in the US? I’m not a trained economist but I know that Tanzania has not seen their economy grow for many years, so it’s not a model to strive for. Is this more personalized economy better for the soul? Absolutely.
Socios dinamicos
La Paz, Bolivia
Buenas!
Its been a dynamic 2 days, filled with meetings, client visits, presentations and lots of delicious mate de coca. Heres the update:
Wednesday
I sleep past my alarm and awake to the sounds of husting taxis sounding their horns outside my hotel window. Jumping up I throw on my dress suit and snag a cab downtown. Destination: FADES’ headquarter office. The largest MFI in Bolivia, FADES serves over 21,000 rural borrowers through individual lending at 84 agencies scattered throughout the country. Stepping into the office, it certainly does feel like a production. 2 floors, lots of people who look busy at their desks, typing away, looking through books. The receptionist directs me upstairs to Fernando Mompo’s office. The Executive Director and visionary behind FADES, Fernando greets me warmly, and we take a seat in his spacious office and are served coca tea, starting off with the usual small talk. How’s the altitude treating you? First time in Bolivia? The atmosphere feels formal, a stark change from my previous day in the field up in El Alto. But thats why I love this work~ each day a new deck of cards!
Hangin with a Kiva borrower
We start to gab and I immediately feel more at ease. I learn all about their work, origins, reach, credit policies, MIS systems. Its supremely interesting, and at the end of 2 hours I have to apologize for asking so many questions! Aldo Terrazas, my first contact at FADES, joins us and we gab together for moment, catching up from our phone call a few weeks back. The conversation then turns to Kiva and I’m on point. Sales time! I go through our presentation and field the questions that by now I’ve some to expect. Some on interest rates, others on client selection. All in all the meeting goes well, and we close by making plans for field visits on my way up to Peru on Sunday. Its a win-win for me, I get to meet their borrowers in the field, and I get a lift to the border. Score! Plus, they’re delighted by Kiva and want to start immediately…time to talk to the Kiva team:)
Learning how to sew with a Kiva borrower
We bid farewell and I hit the streets of La Paz. Killing a few hours I get hopelessly lost in the cobblestone alleyways, and as it nears 3 o’clock I surrender and hop a cab back to city center, and then over to ProMujer. Third visit to the offices and its starting to feel like home. I meet Daniel, their new “Kiva hire” who will be responsible for traveling around to their field offices and collecting stories to upload to Kiva. Talk about a cool job. I show him the site, train him on the intricacies of our model, and then we’re good to go. We can expect businesses as early as next week, I’m assured. 1 small step for Kiva, but one big step for Bolivian microfinance 
So then its Thursday.
I’ve been waiting for this day all week. The day I finally get to meet our borrowers and the IMPRO staff I’ve been working with remotely since February. 9am and I’m in the offices, the entire team (around 14 people) gathered around me, all of us dressed in winter clothes and sipping coca team. The office is humble~ one room, desks lining the perimeter, a small conference room (Kiva team, sound familiar??) and no central heating. Walking in I smile and think to myself, these are my people:) We dive into Q+A. They share their beginnings, their deep commitment to their borrowers, the creative solutions they’ve come up with to help solve the unique problems of the poor.
A Neighborhood IMPRO serves
One great example: “Pretamos Anticreditos.” The vast majority of IMPRO’s clients, especially in the urban and sub-urban areas, don’t own property, and have few prospects of doing so in the forseeable future. Poor women and men with no papers, few assets, and often no ability to read or write, they are some of the most vulnerable populations in Bolivia. They rent rooms and apartments on illegal settlements dottling the hillsides overlooking La Paz. At any moment their adobe houses could crumble from the Spring rains, get demolished by the government or a private landowner, or get re-possesed by their landlords.
Me and Enrique, an IMPRO loan officer
with La Paz in the background
IMPRO has come up with a creative loan product to serve borrowers such as these. They issue 0% interest credit to the landowner’s their clients rent from. This free line of credit serves as an upfront rental payment, and during the course of the loan renters make monthly payments to IMPRO, with interest. Then, at the end of the term, landowners are required to pay back the principal of the loan to IMPRO’s clients. In essence, this is their savings that they have been accumulating during the course of the loan. Its ingenious for a few reasons: 1) It helps ensure landowners don’t mistreat tenants as their contract is with a reputable institution, and not just a poor and often vulnerable individual. 2) It helps IMPRO clients generate savings, and at the end of the loan term they have a level of liquidity that they otherwise would not have had. 3) It serves as a “security deposit” for landowners. Its products like these that leave no doubt in my mind about the integrity and social orientation of this Kiva field partner. I’m delighted to talk to the team, and to hear about their innovations such as this one.
We wrap up the morning’s Q+A and head out to a yummy lunch, full of dynamic conversation about the Bolivian economy, the re-possession of the oil reserves, socialism, the microeconomy, and how it all ties together. Bolivia is such a completely intriguing country. So much to say on it, perhaps a blog for a long plane ride:)
Lilia and Veronica, Kiva borrowers
with their loan officer Enrique, and me!
Then its to the field. We visit Lilia and Veronica, 2 sisters who have recently received loans to build bathrooms in their house. With no sanitation and limited access to potable water, many people in the “barrios populares” overlooking La Paz are forced to go to the bathroom wherever they can~ in the street, in alleyways, their backyards. Its a huge health problem, and also has obvious rippling social and cultural implications. The loans they’ve each taken out from IMPRO will help them build 2 facilities within their living space for their respective husbands, families and children. We come upon them washing clothes in the early afternoon sun. Smiling and introducing themselves, they hop up to give us the grand tour. The adobe walls of their house look as if they’ll crumble to the touch. Their clothes hang drying in the crisp Andean air. Dogs roam the compound.
We sit with them and go over their plans. The folded paper ripples in the mountain breeze. Enrique, their loan officer who is also an architect by training, has helped them come up with their building plans, and as part of the evaluation process, has also worked with Lilia and Veronica to map out a longer term strategy for the improvement of their home (brick walls, partitions for their respective families, green space). The improvements will come in time, but for now they’re each concentrating on the task at hand.
A Kiva borrower
Off to visit more clients, then back to my hotel for a meeting. Just because I’m in Bolivia doesn’t mean I get out of the normal responsibilities:) I dial into the Kiva conference line and gab with my colleagues on the other side of the world. We pull up our spreadsheets, debate number and concepts of the various projects we’re involved in. Share ideas. Rev on our work. For a moment I forget I’m on the other side of the world, laying on my hotel room bed with my earphones in, my skype account on the screen. It all feels so normal, and I can even hear the usual office sounds in the background. Looking up from my computer, I smile to myself as the evening breeze blows in through the window. The world, indeed, has gotten very, very small…..
Until next time:)
hello from Ghana!
My name is Anne Sophie Breuning and i am a Kiva Fellow in Ghana. I have now been in Accra, Ghana for almost 72 hours and my jetlag is slowly wearing off. The air is hot and humid; the streets are crazy with no sidewalks, open sewers, a million honking cars, and street peddlers hawking everything from plastic spoons to Ghanaian soccer shirts. We are staying in the Osu district in the center of Accra at theMotel4.com – not to be confused with having any connection the internet since the hotel has no internet connection or website. Most places here are named God is Great, God is King and Trust in Him so names that have nothing to do with the business itself are quite common here.
Yesterday I went to my first field meeting to meet some of the Kiva clients – each fellow has to meet and journal about 15 clients per week. Since Kraben (Kiva partnership organization in Ghana) has only one official vehicle, we took tro-tro’s to the meeting. A tro-tro (also named by my fellow Kiva fellow Delana as a ‘sweat-sweat”) is a beaten up minivan (and not the cushy kind with DVD’s and comfy seats) with extra seats put into it. Yesterday I counted 16 adults in the first one and 17 adults and 2 kids in the second one – a tro-tro doesn’t leave its stop until it is “full” so the battle is to always find one that is almost full so you don’t get stuck waiting in the heat! The fare per person is about 25 – 40 cents – in Ghanaian cedis this is 2500 / 4000 – the currency is devaluing in about two weeks since it is becoming rather impractical to carry around a million cedis ($100US) in your purse. It feels like monopoly money when you are millionaire!
The first group meeting we went to was 3 tro-tro rides and a 20 min walk into the village to find the Addente Barrier Women’s Association who meet every Tuesday under the banyan tree. Our next group Abundant Grace was another 2 tro-tro rides away – they meet every Tuesday in one of the women’s stall’s that sells snacks and drinks. All of the women in each group have received 1 million cedi ($100) as their first initial loan and should cycle through to their second loan once they show steady repayment cycles of their first loan and some of the group members are on their 3 or 4 their loan cycle– as part of their training they receive basic book keeping skills and each woman has a bank book where each loan payment and repayment is recorded. The women are subdivided into smaller groups of about 5-7 and this smaller group is held responsible for the repayment if one member defaults on their loan – the interest rate on the loans received through Kiva’s partner Kraben is about 20% – this is relatively common for NGO micro finance programs – commercial micro finance that are beginning around the world typically charge more in the 40 – 50% range.
At Abu dent Grace I meet Agnes. Agnes is not sure how old she is, but she has birthed 10 children, 8 of whom are still alive and she has 13 grandchildren – 4 of whom still live with her today. Her husband deserted them 22 years ago and she has been taking care of her children alone since that time. She has been a member of Abundant Grace for 7 years and owns a “chopbary” (a stall that also has 3 or 4 tables to serve food). Though Agnes does speak some English (it is the official language in Ghana and all signs are posted in English) she speaks Twi and our conversation is facilitated through Millicent – a fantastic young woman who works for Kraban. Agnes has savings in the bank and wants to send her youngest son to vocational school so that he can learn to type – this will give him the opportunity to get a job in the government or a NGO like Millicent. When I comment on how impressed and humbled I am by Agnes’ feats in life, she laughs with a wide grin and says that is her duty as a mother – to take care of her children. I ask her if she thinks that they will take care of her when she is too old to work. She says she hopes so, but doesn’t want to put that burden on her children, so she plans to save for her retirement once she has paid for her son’s education. It is truly humbling to sit across from this woman and know that she supports her entire family on less per month than what I usually spend on a weekend in San Francisco….when I ask if she has any questions for me, she says that she wants Kiva lenders to know that she would re-invest more money in her business if she were given another loan!
My culture shock is competing with my jetlag to spin my head in more directions…the heat, crowded streets where any second I could be hit by one of the crazy drivers incessantly honking while yelling “Obroni, Obroni” (white person) to get me to buy something or take a cab or talk to them, the excitement in the village kids eyes when we blew up 3 beach balls for them to share amongst the 20 of them, the vibrant colors of women’s head dresses, the dust and soot in the back of my throat all converge on slight nausea and giddiness. One moment Delena (the other Kiva fellow who is an amazing 20 year old woman from North Carolina who has been here for 5 weeks) and I are dying laughing about cultural impressions and the next we have more questions than I ever thought possible. Today we are spending the day at the Golden Tulip aka the “Obroni” heaven – the only 4-star hotel in Accra. There is wireless Internet, a swimming pool and a reprieve from being Obroni! More on our adventures there later.
Africa is hard and I wonder if I am up for conquering it
Caminante no hay camino, se hace el camino al andar
ProMujer, Bolivia
Hi All!
I’ve spent the last few days meeting with MFIs based in La Paz, explaining the Kiva model, talking with their teams, and most important of all, visiting their operations in the field. Here are some bits and pieces of my adventures….(excuse the poor quality of photos, I switched cameras today and it should be better going forward..)
Monday
My alarm sounds and I awake from a deep sleep, dreaming I am back at home. I’m immediately disoriented as I look out the window and see the towering valley walls dotted with lights that stare back at me as gaze out my 5th story window into the pre-dawn light. Rolling out of bed I get ready, head downstairs, and grab a minibus that takes me to the ProMujer Bolivia offices.
As we near the offices, my head wizzes with a cocktail of emotions–two parts excitement, one part nervousness, two parts facts I’m trying not to forget, and a generous splash of 12,00o ft headache. But no time to think! I’m out of the minibus and stuck between 4 lanes of blaring traffic. Phew, that one almost snagged my scarf. Whoops, theres another minibus overflowing with people. An arm here, a leg there. I smile and remind myself how much I love the madness of the developing world.
We spend the morning going over the common questions–How to payments work? Who uploads what information? How do we manage this and not change our operations? Which of our 80,000 (!) women borrowers do we select? 4 hours later I emerge into the afternoon sunlight with the next few days laid out and a meeting with another prospective partner, AgroCapital, on the horizon.
So its back downtown. I meet Jorge Nodas at my hotel, a delightful gentleman and the director of another of the largest MFIs in Bolivia, AgroCapital. We go to the same restaurant I dined with Jose and Miguel in the night before. The server gives me funny looks. Another man in a black suit, huh? I shoot him back a glance with my eyes…thats right! this is how I roll:) Jorge is delighted by our model–he’d never heard of it before but with a little help from some friends, we convinced him to carve out an hour for Kiva. He left bubbling with ideas, and as I write this I’ve already received their completed application. Less than 48 hour turnaround. Thats got to be a record.
So the day concludes with frantic email writing, a Spanish version of “Piratas del Caribe” in the local theater, and a walk through the cobblestone alleyways to check out the colonial architecture and feel the pulse of La Paz’s 2 million people as they got about their evenings.
Tuesday in the field
Up at dawn again and barreling up the mountain to El Alto with ProMujer’s Regional Director, Gabriela, I listen to stories of the organization’s beginnings and try not to choke to death from the fumes that stream into the backseat of our minibus. We make a couple switches, and then hop out on the carretera and stroll up the alley to their regional offices. Through the windows I see crowds of women dressed in long, thick blankets. A bright sign gleams from the second story of the building, “Programas para la Mujer.” We’ve arrived.
It doesn’t feel like this is the program that has served thousands of women in 5 countries. That is revered as one of the most successful initiatives of its size, earned global respect for its pioneering work with the poor. Nope, just feels like a cozy community center.
ProMujers methodology is based on peer group solidarity: Credit is issued in groups of 15-25 women that form “asociaciones,” which are then broken into 4 or 5 “grupos solidarios” of 4 women each. All of the women in each association must know eachother before entering the program (a proven solidarity group methodology), and together they work to approve eachothers loan sizes, develop their business skills, serve their families, and work their way, cycle-by-cycle, out of poverty.
I join meetings where women are learning about financial documents, debating the size and type of a loan of their peers, blessing the groups’ loan with cane sugar and prayers before distributing it out to the members. I sit with a special group of 4 as they work out the terms of the 12th loan cycle (!). Some of them pictured here, these borrowers have been with ProMujer for over 6 years, and all attested to the change the program has made not only in their income, but also in their lives. We laugh, listen to eachother, and play with the multitude of kids running about. I think to myself how proud I am also be a woman, and to be accepted into their group for the day.
As I head back down into the city, I stop by the national office for a few meetings with the financial teams. The day fades as we gab about numbers and projections, finalizing the partnership that will soon serve hundreds of women, and make it possible for this program to grow to new areas, and support more families. I glance up from my computer to see a poster with beautiful pictures of women dressing in flowing scarves, robes, brightly colored blankets. The millenium development goals are listed—Eradicate Extreme Poverty and Hunger. Improve Maternal Health. Promote Gender Equality. Develop a Global Partnership for Development. Noble goals indeed. Daunting really. But I think to myself, if anything is going to change the course of our world, it will be a critical mass of people, each chipping in just a little bit for the good of all. Just a bit. Like maybe, 25 bucks:)
Until next time…..
Here’s to all the loan officers out there!
I’ve been hanging out with the Prisma staff for almost three weeks now. The moment I stepped off the plane, they made me feel right at home. They’ve been eager to take me out in the field to meet borrowers, and educate me on the intricacies of microfinance in Honduras. It’s hard to believe it’s only been three weeks.
I am based out of the main office in the Loma Linda Sur neighborhood of Tegucigalpa. However, Kiva clients are spread throughout Prisma’s five offices so I am traveling between all of them. In addition to Loma Linda Sur, there’s the Pedregal office which services Comayagüela, Tegucigalpa’s neighboring sister city; the Danlí office about 1 1/2 hours east; the Choluteca office about two hours south; and the San Lorenzo office also two hours south but on the coast. Each branch has on average, two loan officers, who are out in the field every day meeting new clients or checking in with existing clients. So far I have had the pleasure of accompanying five of them to meet their respective Kiva clients. The work that these officers do is in my opinion, the most critical to increasing microfinance in developing countries.
Every client I meet tells me how much these small loans have helped him or her. Time and time again, I hear the same comment: that slowly but surely, these loans are changing their lives. Access to credit is empowering people to create economic opportunities in countries that for one reason or another, are unable to support their own.
As beneficial as it is, the one thing I’ve noticed is how hard it is to physically reach all those people who need loans. First, in big cities like Tegucigalpa, the traffic is horrendous and it could take 45 minutes to make it across town. That’s assuming one is traveling by car. Usually the loan officers will travel by motorcycle, bus, or foot (or a combination of) to reach clients because cars are too expensive to purchase and maintain. Second, whether it is an urban city or rural village, the roads in the poorer parts of town are usually in poor condition. In most of my trips around the city, I’ve been fortunate enough to get a ride in a taxi owned by one of the loan officer’s husbands. Even so, we usually have to get out of the car at some point and walk because the roads are too steep, poorly maintained, or haven’t even been built yet! It is physically demanding work – traveling all day, being out in the heat, and sometimes even having to watch out for would-be thieves.
I feel really lucky to be in the company of some very experienced and dedicated loan officers. They are tireless in their efforts to meet new clients and build long-lasting relationships with their existing clients. These officers, and all the other loan officers out there should be commended. It’s because of them that microfinance has been able to reach as many people as it has to date. They are instrumental in reaching those clients who need loans most, helping them pull themselves out of poverty. So thank you all!
Microcredito en la ciudad mas alto del mundo
Hello all!
Michelle from the Kiva Partnerships Team here, representing South America and the Kiva staff;) I’ve so enjoyed reading all of the fellows posts, and am excited to now add my own stories to the mix!!
I’ll be traveling on behalf of Kiva for the next 3 weeks through Bolivia, Peru and Paraguay, with a brief (9 hour, but yep already have a meeting lined up!) stop in Argentina. I’ll be meeting with new and potential partners about Kiva, and will also be visiting two of our superstar MFIs that are already on the platform, IMPRO and Fundacion Paraguaya. I hope to blog every few days, so keep checking back!!
So, the first day: I arrive yesterday to the outskirts of La Paz. Touching down on the runway I gaze out at the expanse of crumbling adobe and brick building, dotted with red rooftops and tiny corner shops, women with heavy blankets wrapped around their backs and traditional hats, dust everywhere, the horizon stretching far into the distance until it intersects with the distant Andean peaks. This is la Cuidad El Alto, the birthplace of microfinance in Latin America, and home to over 1 million of Bolivia’s 9 million people.
After grabbing my bags I grab a taxi and descend from El Alto down into the valley that is La Paz. Weaving through los “Barrios Populares” that line the steep hillsides overlooking the city, I glimpse houses teetering perilously on steep cliffsides, held up by poor foundation that could go at any moment–these are the ex-miners, farmers and coca growers of the country, whose livelihoods and those of the families they support are just as tenous as the foundation of their homes. They are the barrios where Quechua and Ayamara are still spoken, where EVO is painted atop crumbling facades, where Andean socialism thrives. They are home to many of Bolivia’s poorest families.
Arriving in the city, I check into my hotel, take a few hour nap and enjoy some coca tea–yes it does numb your mouth a bit, no it doesn’t do much more than than. I then meet up with the directors of IMPRO, Miguel and Jose Jimenez, and we pop over to a neighborhood cafe where we enjoy a huge meal of trucha and rice and beans. We gab for hours about their work, the Bolivian market, their thoughts on commercialization, future goals, the partnership with Kiva. As we speak, I realize the neighborhoods we passed coming into the city are home to many Kiva clients. It is, indeed, a small, small world, and I take a moment to be grateful for all of the many factors that make our work possible–computers, our generous lender base, local heroes like Jose and Miguel, women and men who, although they have no assets, can be trusted with a loan from far-off investors.
The story of IMPRO is a great one: Jose and Miguel are brothers, and after leaving the commerical banking sector 15 years ago, Jose joined up with a team of volunteers to launch IMPRO, which now serves over 1,200 borrowers, and is well respected for its social orientation in city and outskirts of La Paz. I immediately get the impression that we’ve made a good choice with these folks, and as I hear them tell their stories of a modest beginning, and a passion for their work, I can’t help but smile and think of the Kiva team back home!
During dinner a Spanish reporter who recognizes Jose pops over to our table. After a few blank stares from the Jimenez brothers side, the reporter identifies himself as the gentleman who had interviewed Jose a few years back about his work with the poor during the oil protests of the 2004. They smile, gab, and catch up, and the reporter leaves a DVD with us to check out his latest work. During the conflict a few years ago, IMPRO was one of the few organizations that supported the borrowers in unstable areas during the protests, helping to bring stability to their lives and support their enterprises and families. They were spotlighted in a piece that not even Jose had seen, so the three of us left excited to see what he had put together.
Late into the night and its time to head home. I bid farewell to Jose and Miguel, and we set a date to meet up later in the week. In the morning, its off to ProMujer….
Meet a serial entrepreneur
When you enter a YOSEFO community bank you are sure to encounter business owners facing every stage of the business life cycle. Some entrepreneurs are just getting their ventures off the ground and are using their loan money to purchase their first sewing machine, food stuffs or rent a salon space. Other businesses are flourishing, sales are growing and customers are becoming more regular. A few businesses are on the decline; higher prices for goods or a new industry regulation could be making it hard to maintain profits. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to meet the veteran business owners – those that received their first loan money from YOSEFO 8 or 10 years ago. They have been around long enough to grow their first business and subsequently started other successful businesses. Leonard Lusungu would fall in that category and I had the pleasure of talking to him today in the Vituka community of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
Leonard took his first loan years ago and used the money to purchase a deep freezer for his small grocery. Over the years, he has reinvested his business income and borrowed more money to expand his grocery store and establish a local restaurant and pharmacy. In addition to those businesses, he raises cattle and operates a bus service. He employs over 20 people in all of his businesses yet manages all the operations in a relaxed manner. When I asked if feels a lot of pressure because he owns several businesses and employs so many people, he just smiled and told me that he’s found good managers to run the operations of each of his businesses, leaving him free to continue to think of new ways to make money. His next venture will be a wholesale beer and soda store.
Leonard has been a good client for YOSEFO over the years and now borrows funds ten times the amount of his first loan. Not surprisingly his needs have changed over the years. He is now interested in making it easier to increase the amount of money he can borrow and wants to make larger loan payments less frequently. I imagine tenured microfinance institutions are finding distinct customer segments emerging and now have to determine how to make their model more flexible to meet the needs of these high-value customers.
When I asked Leonard why he enjoys running his own businesses, I wasn’t surprised by the answer because it mirrored the feelings that other small business owners in the US had been telling me for years. It’s the fact that his work will almost directly determine his success and income. He also mentioned that he enjoyed the freedom of coming and going without having to report into a boss. His flexible work schedule allowed him to take his four kids to school in the morning – something that most fathers he knew were not able to do.
I left Leonard’s restaurant inspired by the power of microfinance. Leonard told me that without the community bank he would not have been able to achieve his dreams — professionally and personally. His business income has paid for a home in Dar es Salaam and a second home in his home land in the Kilimanjaro district. All four of his children are thriving in primary school and he’s able to take care of his extended family. By sending capital to well-run microfinance institutions, like YOSEFO, Kiva Lenders are helping men and women, like Leonard, down the path towards achieving their life’s dreams.
Karibu
From left to right: Stephen (me), Mariah, Martha, and Martin (June 11, 2007)
Today is my first day at the office of Women Economic Empowerment Consort (WEEC), residing in Kajiado district, just outside of Nairobi district, Kenya. Kiserian could not be more different from Nairobi despite its proximity. As the gentlemen who drove me to Kiserian stated: “When you see donkeys, you know you are in Kiserian.” This comment reminded me of a phrase I had learned the day before: “A man without a donkey is a donkey.” I do not have a donkey.
Amidst the hard working donkeys of Kiserian bringing purified water to the residents much in need of clean water, you will also find a bustling town. To get to Kiserian from Nairobi City you drive past the Nairobi national park, past a glimpse of the slums of Kibera, and past the cozy suburb of Karen where mostly expats reside. The streets are lined with open air markets selling fresh fruits and vegetables and small business selling everything from cell phone accessories to the above mentioned clean water and kerosene. There are also the obligatory noisy street vehicles working to rebuild the roads, but you quickly get past that and anxiously await their completion. The roads leading into Kiserian are fantastic, so when this stretch is finished, it should encourage even more visitors.
In the actual city of Nairobi guidebooks and individuals, local or otherwise, warn against riding the matatus (an insane form of private transportation), walking around freely, rolling your windows down, using your camera or cell phone in public, etc. In orther words, in Nairobi City you have to be rather guarded and cautious and this removes you a bit from the experience of being in Nairobi and Kenya.
Kiserian could not be more of a different story. Here, I am told, you can walk freely, even ride a bike, and, if you are feeling courageous ride a matatu. I plan to do all of the above and to enjoy the cleaner air, more ample trees and see if I can get to know a few of the residents in the more friendly confines of the surrounding area of WEEC’s operations.
So, to provide context as my blog entries roll along, WEEC is in Kiserian, about 25 km from Nairobi, but a world apart. The other members of the photo: The lady directly to my left, Mariah, works in operations and is in charge of entering many of the records that the Micro Finance Officers bring back from the field. She is a very hard worker and is the one charged with bringing me up to speed on WEEC’s operations.
To her right we have Martha. Martha is quite a firecracker. She is one of the most senior employees at WEEC and a true holder of the vision of WEEC. She used to be a teacher and it shows. She conducts quite a bit of training for the various women’s groups so she quickly points out that she still is a teacher. Except now she can provide even more tools, such as capital through Kiva, to help get rural women to believe in themselves as individuals and as business women. You can rarely talk to Martha without hearing a story of one of her loan recipients and I am very thankful for getting to work with her. I am sure to learn a lot from this woman and Kiva lenders should be elated to have her on the case of distributing and monitoring their loans.
To her right we have Martin. Martin is the Micro Finance Officer (MFO) responsible for Kiambu, an area of Nairobi that I have not had a chance to visit yet. If you are in possession of a Lonely Planet Kenya travel guide, this area is actually mentioned (unlike Kiserian) as it has a national park called Paradise Lost within its confines. Martin sounds like a proud father pronouncing his child’s name when he speaks the name of his territory: Kiambu. I very much look forward to visiting this area with him soon.
Oh, in case you were wondering, Karibu (the title of this, my first posting) means welcome in Swahili, and that is just the way I felt after my first day working with WEEC.
Kwaheri (Good-Bye).
First day in the field
Yesterday was my first day of field work – meeting entrepreneurs who have gotten loans from Kiva lenders and capturing their stories and lives to be written about in journals that are then posted on the Kiva site. The following is an account of the day’s happenings. Disclaimer: It was an eventful day so this will definitely be a long entry; feel free to skim.
I arrived at Ebony’s office around 9:30 in the morning. Jane made some brief preparations to leave and then we were off. Jane was a loan officer for Ebony and worked here out of the main office, servicing areas in and around Nakuru. She was recently promoted to Business Development Officer and then again to Unit Manager for the Mombasa (Kenyan coastal city) Office. She’ll be moving to her new position in a few weeks, but until then I’m lucky enough to have her accompanying me on my field visits – she’s friendly, knowledgeable and from what I can tell, extremely skilled at what she does. After seeing her interact with people in the field, it was clear Jane had developed a strong rapport with her clients during her time as an LO.
Our destination for the day was Subukia, a village town surrounded by acres and acres of farmland. Subukia is approximately an 80 kilometer drive from Nakuru, so Jane and I found ourselves subject to the whims of the local public transportation system. From the office we flagged down a matatu (“bus”). Now, when you picture this bus, I need you to not think of the huge American public transport vehicles that can hold upwards of 40, 50 people. Rather, think minivan, but not the American soccermom type…I’m talking the bank robber getaway type – the big white ones with one side sliding door. Inside each matatu, behind the driver’s seat, 3 triple-seat rows have been installed. On the outside of each, painted on yellow stripes are the destinations of that particular vehicle. Here’s the catch though – matatus do not operate on a set time schedule or even a standard driving route, and there is not set price (you had better negotiate your fee before you get in). Drivers will take any shortcut or alternate road they see fit and will stop at any point on the road that a potential passenger could be waiting. What’s more, once stopped, it may be several minutes (if not 20 or more) before you get moving again b/c each driver is trying to maximize his profits (these are privately operated businesses, not government run) by filling the van to capacity. (Our day’s first matatu blasted reggae from the speakers and the interior was adorned with stickers in Swahili saying “If you think the music is too loud, then you’re too old.”)
Anyway, a 10 minute ride later, we arrived at the central Nakuru “bus station” where we found a matatu heading to Subukia; we waited a good 15-20 minutes before the driver felt the vehicle sufficiently full of passengers. As we drove out of Nakuru, we passed the State House. I thought it was for the local city government, but Jane corrected me. The State House is a sprawling estate, complete with full-time staff, meant solely to house the Kenyan president whenever he visits Nakuru, which according to Jane was very rarely. It seemed a giant waste of resources if you ask me; Jane agreed.
On the ride out to Subukia – interrupted by many abrupt stops and shuffling of passengers in and out – Jane and I chatted. She commented on the lack of any set matatu schedule as a microcosm of a general lack of adherence to time schedules and deadlines in Africa at large, and figured that it would require a sea change in people’s attitudes to change the time culture. I feel that it will require a change on the other side – ideally, the public transport will be taken over and fully regulated by government. Once the government sets up a strict time schedule for buses to adhere to, and drivers stick to it, and people start missing buses when they don’t come on time, the culture will change. Of course, that all supposes that the Kenyan government has the flexibility and resources to address such concerns, a seemingly quixotic hope considering all of the other more pressing challenges it faces.
As we left Nakuru farther and farther behind, the landscape outside became increasingly more scenic and breathtaking. On either side of the road rolling hills swept up and down, covered in lush greenery. At first glance it reminded me of some parts of the US I’ve seen before, namely Wisconsin and parts of California.
We arrived at the Subukia town center, which I can best describe as reminiscent of the town square you see in old American Western movies. Except rather than dusty desert, the roads are thick, hard slab of mud in varying degrees of wetness. And the buildings weren’t wood, but more clay and cement, but still low-slung one-story edifices lining either side of the streets. Jane flagged down two motorbike taxis – they were the only way to get out quickly to the Subukia farms, because the mud roads were too rough and rugged for any vehicle (except maybe a Humvee or something).
As I mounted a motorbike behind its driver, I elicited loud laughs from a nearby group of teenagers. I sincerely doubt they meant any derision – it was probably that I just looked funny in my bright orange t-shirt and gray sweatpants (my luggage still hadn’t arrived as of yesterday morning, although it thankfully did this morning). To be honest, I could feel it, just how much I stood out. On the 15 minute motorbike ride to the first set of Ebony’s clients, everyone we passed did a double take when they saw me, most with mingled looks of curiosity and wonder on their faces.
When we got to the farms I was the one who had to do a double take. The landscape was absolutely stunning – in a developed country where utilities and access to this area would have been possible, the land would have been worth a fortune and surely a high-income neighborhood. Words can’t capture just what I saw, and I’d love to upload pics but the internet connection here won’t allow that too easily, so you’ll just have to trust me.
As we walked from farm to farm for the rest of the day, I had to remind myself to look up and take in the natural magnificence all around me.
The first two women I met were Lucy and Rebecca. Both women received loans from Kiva lenders to expand their farming business, mainly in the form of leasing more acres of land and buying farming supplies like fertilizers, seeds, etc. Both women had to lease land that was quite far away because all available land near their current farmland was already taken. Rebecca for instance walks 2 hours one way to get to her extra land. Each woman, and every person I met for that matter, was extremely friendly and hospitable, taking great care to invite me in to their homes and offer me what little they had. Lucy wouldn’t let me leave her farm until she had made me tea and eggs. Their hospitality was so refreshing – it wasn’t offered with any ulterior motives or hidden agendas, but simply because they knew it was the right thing to do, and it gave them joy to include me in their lives in whatever small way they could.
Something else I found so interesting was the handshakes. As background, you should know that everyone you meet in Kenya, even for the briefest of encounters, will shake your hand. The strength and firmness and style of a handshake is considered cross-culturally to be indicative of a person’s bearing. What touched me was how every single person I met yesterday greeted me with a strong, deliberate handshake – they were more poised in their handshakes than many successful adults I’ve met in America. What this told me – and it was confirmed in their voices and their eyes – was that these people are proud, earnest, honest and decent. Don’t get me wrong, they aren’t naïve – they understand the plight of poverty that they are in – but they are not defeated. They are hopeful, resourceful, resilient…and frankly, people to be admired.
Later in the day, I met Samuel, a 48-year old farmer who cares for his own two children, his parents, and his deceased sister’s three children. Samuel specializes in tomatoes, but when he isn’t working in the field, he supplements his income by teaching Standard 1 at a local school for youngsters. He was just hired a few months ago. Samuel must have been a tour guide in another life, Jane and I both thought. He was incredibly vivacious and eager to show us around his farm and the surrounding areas. He took us to the south side of his land where a natural river ran through the property. Proudly he stood by the natural waterfall, describing with joy how he harnessed the power of gravity for his irrigation pipes. With a smile and a flash, Samuel was off again, briskly winding his way through the trees and crops to take us to the next stop on his tour.
And what a stop it was – the now-in-ruins estate of Phillip Mitchell, British governor of Kenya in the late 1940’s when the country was still a colony. The sprawling complex must have been magnificent in its heyday – there were large open courtyards, several gardens, a few buildings connected by pathways. According to Samuel, Queen Elizabeth herself stayed there in 1948.
Samuel also was determined to find the snakes he knew to be hiding in the crops, much to Jane’s laughing displeasure. He kept describing a huge black mamba he knew he to be slithering around somewhere. (It’s a sign of how out of touch with nature this New York City raised Kiva Fellow is that the first thing I thought of when I heard “black mamba” was Kobe Bryant…followed closely by Uma Thurman and Kill Bill).
Samuel also provided another reminder of just how pervasive American influence is abroad. One of his brothers moved to the US a few years back and is currently stationed in Afghanistan as a Sergeant in the US Army.
The day was filled with a lot of walking but it was pleasantly relaxing and energizing. I think that was the first time in several years that I’ve been in an outdoorsy nature setting for an extended period. It was also inspiring – meeting people who faced tremendous adversity day in and day out with a smile. Daniel, for instance, is nearly 60 and is still caring for three of his own children and five grandkids. Yet, he stood in the middle of his freshly dug fish pond (where he plans to breed tilapia in the coming months) looking carefree and telling me how wonderful his Kenya was.
Jane and I left Subukia around 5:30 and made our way back to Nakuru. All in all, I’d say it was a fantastic first day in the field.
Insight from a friend
A good friend of mine at college who is currently spending the summer in Cairo emailed me a comment in response my post about Mariah Carey being everywhere that I thought was really insightful and well-said and deserved to be shared:
“I really have to agree with you about how ridiculously pervasive American sh*t is everywhere—-even in the Middle East, which is supposedly the most anti-American place ever, basically every bilboard is about some American company…I just went to Alexandria and there was this one block where there was a McDonalds, Pizza Hut, LIttle Ceaser’s, KFC and Hardee’s all in the same building! Ridiculous….its funny but i also worry if someday everywhere will just look the same.”
Impalas, Flamingoes and Giraffes…oh my!
I start going out in to the field to meet entrepreneurs tomorrow, so I promise to have more Kiva-related info on here soon. In the meantime, here’s some more about the touristy aspects of my time here…
I still don’t have my luggage. It seems that a lot of people had their bags lost on British Airways because their Nairobi airport lost bags telephone # is always busy or no one picks up. It’s a bit frustrating to be honest. I had to go buy some clothes from a store called Wool Matt, which I’m pretty sure is a thinly veiled imitation of Wal Mart. You can buy anything you need there – groceries, liquor, clothes, random odds and ends, hardware, etc.
I spent all of yesterday afternoon, last night and this afternoon at Lake Nakuru National Park. It’s a huge tourist attraction, mainly because the lake is beautiful, has an unbelievably large population of flamingoes, and because of the game park that you can take safaris in. I drove around the game park for a good 3-4 hours yesterday and again today. It was absolutely stunningly gorgeous. It’s a huge expanse of a park – hundreds, if not thousands of acres of vast terrain. It is open plains, African style. So it’s not pristine beauty, but more serene and rugged beauty. You look out and see just shrubbery and bushes and trees, but not dense forests but rather trees spaced apart, for as far as you can look. I took lots of pictures (although my camera died by the end of yesterday and since my charger is in my luggage, I was forced to resort to my cell phone…until that too, died.). We drove as close to the lake as possible and took pictures of the flamingoes. From afar, all you see is a sea of pink ringing the edge of the lake. Once you get closer, it still seems like a large pink mass, except that it’s moving slowly to and fro, and you can hear the flamingos chirping or calling or whatever it is they do – it sounds kind of like a low hum of static when there are millions of them doing it all at once. I also got pictures of baboons, monkeys, rhinos, buffalos, giraffes, zebras, impalas, and antelopes. It was really sweet because at a few points we got really close to the animals. Sadly we couldn’t find any lions or anything like that. Hopefully I’ll get to see that stuff before I leave Kenya. One thing that I wish I had was a quality camera meant for taking serious photographs. I feel like my digital camera just can’t capture the vast expanses of beautiful landscape that are in front of me, but rather just takes narrow slices of the view.
Last night I stayed by myself at Lake Nakuru Lodge. It’s a really nice hotel located on a high hill somewhere in the game park. The scenery and view from around the entire complex is unbelievable. The lodge is a series of small huts connected by open walkways. There’s a bar and a pool and nice amenities, but it’s not garish and they’ve worked to make the architecture and ambience flow and meld with the surrounding nature. I was sitting outside before just staring out on the plains because they are so peaceful. Then it started raining and I was wearing the only pair of clothing I currently have so I couldn’t afford to get it soaked.
After the hotel’s dinner hours, there was live music by the bar and pool area. The hotel came alive as all the guests from different countries relaxed after long, hot days out in the park. It provided me a solid few hours of people watching.
This morning I woke early, around 6 am, ate breakfast and then sat by the edge of the hotel complex on the side overlooking the lake. I watched a grazing herd of impalas for a while, and then just read the morning away (currently: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn). Around 11 am, James picked me up and we took another drive through the game park, but this time with a much better tour guide than I had yesterday. The rest of the day has been spent lounging. Sunday is a day of rest here and life moves pole pole (Swahili for “slow”).
And now I must familiarize myself with the first set of Kiva entrepreneurs that I will be meeting tomorrow.
Warriors of the Light…in Ghana
Takoradi, Western Region, Ghana
Waking up to the refreshing cool air and the morning cockerels crowing around 4:30…is Africa’s “alarm clock”…..not mine!
This is when most Ghanaians start to move around. It makes sense….it is the coolest part of the day. Similarly they are in bed around 9 p.m., having had dinner around 6 p.m. We are yet to get on this schedule…and love it when we do!
We are in Western Africa…..it takes getting used to.
We normally go into the field 2-4 days per week. Millicent, one of Kraban’s many outstanding staff members meets us at Sakoman Square for our field trips into the Greater Accra district. Three hours later, three tro tros, a communal taxi, followed by a hefty hike up a red dirt road, we arrive at the first of our four Tuesday group meetings scheduled for that day. The heat was in full force.
The field work is so exciting and uplifting. It is inspiring to walk into a group who are excited to see you…..and that they are deeply thankful for giving them a chance. The majority of Kraban’s loans are the “village banking” based on the Grameen Model. Many of the women’s groups in Greater Accra have been meeting for 2-7 years and you can feel the “bonds” that have evolved over time.
The regional Community development program is a critical partner in the successful delivery model for micro credit in Ghana. They go into the villages and educate the women on the value of the women’s groups. Many groups “pick up the gauntlet” and initiate themselves with officers, and savings book deposits are recorded at their weekly meetings. Once the group achieves a certain consistency and credibility, they can recommend themselves for loan applications through the micro credit network.
Kraban is one of the most popular micro credit NGO’s in Ghana. They have a slightly lower interest rate with an attractive, initial grace period on the first month’s repayment on the loan. Lastly, and more importantly, they have an outstanding business and life skills training program called T.E.A.C.H. that is experiential in nature. It provides women with the “missing” educational and business skills that many of them did not have access to when they were younger. I have been impressed with the significant impact this program is having on the lives of the women I have spoken to so far.
The field work in Greater Accra is challenging. None of the Kraban field workers own a car. Private cars are a rare private commodity, reserved for the most affluent in Ghana. The work is physically and emotionally demanding. It takes commitment to sustain the rigors and demands of field work in Accra. The Kraban staff, Nana, Kwame (alias “K”), Millicent, Mariam are exceptional. Each member I met have a profound, intuitive capacity to listen and honor their clients; the client’s “voices” were felt and heard. They are genuine. This deeper inner “connecting” is what really touched me. It is the ability to deeply connect with another….what I call the “common touch”……what Kipling in the poem “IF” wrote ……”never to loose the common touch.” This makes Kraban an extraordinary organization.
Despite the challenges of the field work in Greater Accra, I feel fortunate to have this opportunity to feel the “belly” of Kiva’s work. This is where the “rubber meets the road.” It is organizations like Kraban Support Foundation and Kiva’s other micro finance partners who actualize Kiva’s vision…they are the true “Warriors of the Light.”
Mariah Carey is everywhere
I arrived in Kenya on Wednesday evening (two nights ago) after a long flight from New York via London. Because of weather delays from New York, I had to literally run the length of Heathrow Airport just to catch my connecting flight to Nairobi. Apparently my bags didn’t move that fast. The British Airways reps assure me that the bags will be coming hopefully within the next day or two. In the meantime it’s been amusing to see how long I can stretch the small supply of clothing and toiletries that fit in to my carry-on luggage.
I was met at the airport by Nancy, who is the unit manager of Ebony Foundation’s Nairobi office. That night she arranged for me to stay in a small, quiet hotel in the middle of town. I was a huge fan of the hotel, mainly because the first sound to greet me in the lobby was Janet Jackson’s “That’s the Way Love Goes,” followed closely by Marvin Gaye.
The next day I woke up feeling quite well-rested (although slightly bug-bitten, as I forgot to put up the mosquito net in the hotel room – rookie mistake, I guess). Nancy took me to the Nairobi office briefly, and then we set out on the 3-hour drive to Nakuru, the fourth largest city in Kenya and where the headquarters of Ebony is located. From what I saw of Nairobi, I was reminded greatly of India. The similarities can be attributed to their ongoing development – overcrowding, the perpetual and palpable cloud of dust and smog in the air, a “controlled chaos” flow of traffic on the roads (cars, bikes, pedestrians, animals), and the bombardment of Western-style advertising, particularly for cell phones. That feature struck me in India too – I think it’s fascinating that the developing world has come to house such large and insatiable markets for mobile telephones. People who literally have little else to their name can often be seen walking around with a phone to their ear. Absolutely fascinating…
As we drove away from Nairobi, the landscape began to change. Gone was the bustling and dirty city burgeoning under its own development. It was replaced by a single, clean and well-maintained road surrounded on both sides by expansive stretches of ruggedly beautiful landscape – you know, the types of scenic images you see on the discovery channel of African plains. (A sidebar on the driving: I’m from New York City, where navigating your car through hordes of taxis and tourists requires skill and an adept hand at the wheel, but it’s nothing compared to how drivers here operate. It’s as though everyone is trying to see how close they can get to hitting something – another car, a goat, a bicyclist- without hitting it. And that’s to say nothing of the technique of overtaking the slow truck in front of you on the single-lane road to Nakuru: cross over so that you are rushing top-speed in to oncoming traffic and then darting back across the divider line to safety at the last possible second. All in all, it makes for an interesting ride.)
A few hours (and an extremely bumpy and pothole-ridden detour road) later, we arrived in Nakuru, the fourth largest city in Kenya. It’s a cleaner and less Westernized town than Nairobi, but still definitely pretty developed and modern by my standards. I met James, the director of Ebony, at a surprisingly good Chinese restaurant called Bamboo Hut. After lunch, James and Irene (another employee of Ebony) took me to check out several accommodation options, which included a homestay and a few hotels. This will be temporary until Ebony’s guesthouse option is up and running, which should be sometime next week. I was really touched by the sincerity and care James and Irene showed me. Personally I would have stayed in any of the options they brought me to, but they themselves ruled out several saying that they were too dirty or too old. It’s a true mark of how hospitable and friendly Kenyan people are (because I’ve encountered the same warm spirit in everyone I’ve met so far) that they were so picky on my behalf, a person they had only known for a few hours.
I think the best part about my first full day in Kenya was when I realized, to my amusement and chagrin, just how pervasive American influence is overseas. I purposefully did not bring my ipod with me because I wanted to disassociate myself with the familiar routines and parts of my comfy and privileged life in America. I figured that not having my own music would only help me further immerse myself in Kenyan culture and society. Alas, all I’ve heard on the radio so far are popular American songs. Driving around Nakuru, James hummed happily to the Backstreet Boys and The Eagles. I had to suppress a smile when his phone rang – James’ ringtone is Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” – a tune that he’ll proudly tell you he picked himself. I even heard a celebrity news report about Lindsay Lohan’s latest trouble with the law.
James is the director of Ebony Foundation, one of Kiva’s partner MFIs in Kenya. Ebony has been around for the past ten years or so and officially became an NGO MFI approximately 3-4 years ago. Ebony originally started out as an idea that James had with his siblings. His parents were uneducated but were able to make a living for themselves and send all of their children to get university-level educations from the business they started. From this, James had an idea – if his parents could earn enough money to support themselves without any official training or skills, then imagine what industrious Kenyans could do if they were given the opportunity. Ebony thus originally operated as a consulting firm, providing entrepreneurs with the technical skill and business training to start and operate their own businesses. Soon they realized, however, that the biggest thing hampering the success of the entrepreneurs once they were trained was a lack of capital. Logically, Ebony made the step to becoming a provider of microcredit.
Ebony currently operates two distinct programs. The primary credit and loan program is the bulk of their work. The other program they have is an initiative to start up a virtual banking system for their clients. It’s Ebony’s ambition to offer banking services to the remotest rural parts of Kenya in an unprecedented electronic system via mobile phones. The program is still in development but sounds extremely promising to me. James told me that it may be ready to be rolled out towards the end of my time here, so hopefully I can report more on it later on.
That first night, I had dinner at a sports bar called Taidy’s that could have been in any major American city, except for the Kenyan news playing on the gleaming new flat panel TVs. I ate with James and a few other Ebony staffers. Over dinner James and I discussed Ebony’s history and the state of Kenya’s poor in general. I was really impressed with his breadth of knowledge and his visible excitement and passion for his work. You can tell that he’s a man who really knows what he is doing and more importantly is committed to improving the lives of his fellow countrymen.
Still jetlagged, I called it an early night. I did remember to put up the mosquito net this time though…
This morning I awoke feeling quite refreshed, and have spent the day at Ebony’s office meeting the rest of the staff and getting familiar with its practices and procedures. This weekend they have arranged for me to visit Lake Nakuru National Park, a huge tourist attraction and a supposedly beautiful display of Kenyan natural landscape. I’ve been told it’s home to the world’s largest concentration of flamingos.
Starting Monday I will be going out in to the field to begin Journaling about Ebony’s clients.
Until then…
Just like home…well, almost
I arrived in Tegucigalpa, Honduras last Wednesday. Two of the staff members of Prisma Honduras, Orbelina and Lucy, were kind enough to brave the rush hour traffic and pick me up at the airport. You can read more about the staff members and the various Prisma offices on Dr. Kendall Mau’s informative blog: http://microfinancetravels.typepad.com.
My first impressions of Tegucigalpa were that I could be in any large suburban US city, albeit with a little Latin flare! In my first three days here, I visited two different malls, both packed with people shopping at many of the same stores you find in the US, went to Wal-Mart to get a phone, and had dinner at Ruby Tuesdays. And if you’re wondering, this was not all at my suggestion! Even the prices for goods and services in Tegucigalpa are not much different than at home. Where am I again? When you see all this, it’s hard to believe that Honduras is the second poorest country in Central America (according to the 2006 CIA World Fact Book). Furthermore, in 2006 the unemployment rate was estimated to be at an astonishing 27.9% compared to 4.8% in the US. How can this be, when everybody is shopping?
Living in a nice section of Tegucigalpa, it’s really easy to forget that there is another half (or more) that lives below the poverty line in Honduras. There is an extraordinarily unequal distribution of income between the rich and poor here. This week, I finally was able to get out and meet some of the Kiva borrowers in Prisma’s Danlí office, about 60 miles away from Tegucigalpa. Danlí is colonial town with a cowboy feel. Cattle ranching, coffee production, and cigar production are the economic mainstays. Now I remember what I am here for! I spent most of my time with Manuel, one of Prisma’s loan officers, driving around to meet various borrowers at their homes and businesses. Manuel knows just about everyone in Danlí and the nearby town of El Paraiso. He remembers everyone’s name, their family situation, where they live, and how much they have borrowed without needing to bring his files. I could tell that Manuel’s clients have a lot of respect for him. Everyone welcomed us in their home with open arms. Furthermore, I am told that none of his clients have ever defaulted on a loan!
As I return back to my apartment in Tegucigalpa, I remind myself that there are many sides to this country: the one where I am living with all the creature comforts of home, and another one, where many people are working hard every day just to meet their basic daily needs.
Bob Marley in Ghana…
I hear Bob Marley beckoning me: “Rise up this morning. Smile at the rising sun.” Rhythmic reggae vibrates in my head, waking me up. My hand parts the seashell curtain-door. Inside, red, yellow, and green stripes of the Ghanaian flag decorate every wall. I glance down at my cell phone, as I belly up to the bar. It is 10 am.
Every Monday morning at Point Five Bar, 28 members of the Dwen Hwe Kan Group meet to repay loans, discuss business, and socialize. In the Fante language, Dwen Hwe Kan means, “With every step you take, consider the future.” The dynamic support system of group lending encourages each member to patronize fellow member’s businesses. Point Five Bar is owned by Amelia Avokliya, a member of the group. I am here to interview Amelia and the other entrepreneurs. This is the only reason I am at a bar at 10 am, I promise.
I sit down with Ema Saa Imoro. Naturally, Ema is somewhat timid of the obroni sitting in front of her. Obroni is a completely friendly term for outsider, or white girl in my case. I try to break the ice with a rather sad attempt to speak Twi. I’ve mastered, “How are you?” and “I love you” and “Where is the bathroom?” Most Ghanaians are quite amused when I string all three phrases together. “Wo wo te sen? Me do wo. Me pese mi ko jun so?” Ema chucked to her sister sitting next to us, “Silly Obroni.”
An hour into my conversation with Ema, I am dizzy with humility. Ema is a widow and the proud mother of four daughters who all live with her. Ten years ago, Ema’s mother died and she dutifully raises her four younger siblings who also live with her. It took me a minute to fully absorb this noble feat. But wait, that’s not all. Ema also cares for her 80 year old father. Every day at 3 am, Ema begins cooking the wakye she sells in the village of Effiakuma. I picture her waking up in the morning–eternally tired yet infectiously happy, quietly strong yet magnetically warm, perpetually giving yet unaware of her own selflessness. I backtrack a step to verify what I was hearing. “Ema, you take care of nine people?” Ema didn’t even bat an eyelash; “These people are my own, so I always find a way.” Sadly, our time together came to an end.
Next in line to talk to is Kiva client Ramatu Kadre. Ramatu sells cosmetics and hair supplies. Ramatu is the proud mother of seven children who all live with her. Ramatu’s husband works in the port of Takoradi, but sadly he has been out of work for one year after a heavy container fell on his arm, leaving it severely broken. Ramatu is the sole breadwinner, yet she somehow manages to also care for her sister’s 18 year old and her 25 year old daughter’s five month old baby. Like Ema, Ramatu financially supports nine people.
At times, people become desensitized by all the sadness, war, crime, and injustice in the world. As a Kiva Fellow in Ghana, I hope to never become desensitized by all soul-baring determination I witness with each Kiva client I meet.
Jacki in Ghana
Hi…my name is Jacki Marshall, and I am from Charlotte, North Carolina working with the remarkable Kraban Support Foundation in Ghana. It is my first time in West Africa, and I was very excited about coming…..it is very different from East Africa, an area I am more familiar with. I shall be sending weekly posts back to the Kiva site, and I would love for you to join me on this amazing journey……Get ready for the ride…..I am!
The pre-departure was interesting. Where was I going to stay? How was I going to get my visa managed fifteen days before my departure….I did not feel comfortable being parted from my passport so close to my departure. Fortunately, it is possible to receive a 30 day visa at the airport upon arrival for $100. I went for this option knowing I could extend it later.
As providence would have it….. I had a family to stay with when I first arrived; I had met the daughter Regina in Charlotte quite by accident six weeks before I was leaving for Ghana. The last Sunday before my departure Regina and Rachel from Congo came over to my house in Charlotte, North Carolina and cooked a wonderful Ghanaian dish “red red”……and fried plantain…. I was hooked!
I was “on go”…..after a short two day hiatus in England visiting my family, I took off with Ghana International Airlines…six hours later we touched down in Accra, only one hour behind GMT.
It took nearly two hours to get to my new home where I would be staying with Regina’s mother, Ami. Two to three hours to get anywhere in Accra is quite typical as we were to later find out. Accra is one of the largest, most congested urban cities I have experienced. With over six million people, it keeps “bulging” as more and more people move in from the country seeking the “bright city lights”…. and a better life. All the streets are lined up with small kiosks, tables, peddlers carrying their goods on their heads……all “squeaking out” a living, mostly by small businesses, such as food kiosks, fresh vegetable stands, small provision kiosks, coconut stands, small drink stands, mobile phone “top ups,” where you add time to your mobile phones. Trading is the economy; “Each buys a little from each other.”
I found the heat challenging. I had never been this HOT in my life, and I have been fortunate to travel to many subtropical countries prior to Ghana. This was the hottest yet. Night time is the worst……because 60-70% of the time Accra does not have power…and therefore, no ceiling fans. No sweat lodges needed here!
My host Ami lives in Osadakaye, one of the more, densely populated districts of Greater Accra. Her nickname is “auntie,” and she is 67 with four grown children of her own. Three live abroad, one in London and two in the USA, one of which is Regina, my new found friend. She presently takes care of three school age “cousins”–Priscilla (15), Leticia (13) and little Jason who is 2 years. When I got there Jason was just getting over a cough and malaria. Ami supports them, pays for their school fees; in return, they help out around the house. Priscilla and Leuticia wake up at 5:30 am and have chores to do before going to school at 7:30 am. This continues after school. They usually cook the evening meal and help run “Aunties” drinks bar that is in front of her house. The drink bar closes at 9 pm. It is finally time for bed.
This extended family arrangement is very typical. Caring for extended family members is a cultural norm in Ghana. Ghanaians expect it from each other, particularly if a family member appears to be doing well. Contributing factors might be the death or illness of a parent, but more commonplace are the financial challenges a particular family may face. I find it a very attractive characteristic of the Ghanaian culture.
The power situation is serious. The power is out 60-70% of the time, and it has had a huge economic impact on the country (and our journaling!). Many small and medium sized businesses have gone out of business. The power outages started in October 2006. Apparently, the hydro-electric turbines were placed at too high a level, in the event of a low water level, which is now the case. It has made life very challenging. Fortunately, the power outages are equitably distributed through out Accra. The power situation makes us “plan ahead”……we make sure the cell phone, laptops, camera chargers etc. are CHARGED just in case.
To give you a couple of “windows” into life without power, we have attempted to download information four times in two days from an internet café, only to be told three times there is no power, and on the last attempt when there was power, network access was slow, and to come back later!
Similarly, in another instance, I wanted to send an email to Delana my Kiva Fellow in Ghana before she left Houston. She was joining me four days later. Whilst I was in Nana’s (Kraban’s Executive Director) office writing it, there was no power….then after about three hours, magically, we both heard the light, slow buzz of the power coming back on. What a lovely sound! We jumped on the internet and we were connected. I shall never take my internet access for granted ever again. One of the many, many life appreciating insights…. that continue to unfold.
Challenges for entrepreneurs in Tanzania
The entrepreneurs that apply for loan money in Tanzania face all the typical challenges of a small business in the United States or Europe – recruiting and training staff, marketing their business to new and existing customers and finding suppliers with good prices – but they also have to contend with another set of challenges associated with operating in a country that doesn’t have a reliable infrastructure. Their unpredictable working environment became crystal clear to me on Saturday as I spent the day idle without power or water in my home in the Sinza neighborhood of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. I have to admit I was slightly frustrated that the absence of utilities resulted in a day filled with inefficiency. I had started the day with a list of items I was hoping to accomplish and now was only able to get a few things done.
But throughout the day I was also thinking about Sauda Kivike, a salon owner that I had met the week before. Saturday’s were her busiest days – she had twice the clientele as during the week – and for a growing salon a missed Saturday could mean the difference between profit and loss for the month. As a business owner she counted on 24 days in the month to make money and if one or two of those days are lost to infrastructure problems, it could dramatically change her financial outlook for the month. Even if Sauda and other business owners in Tanzania did all the work necessary to have staff and supplies ready and customers interested in their services, at the end of the day they weren’t guaranteed to make money if there was no power or water that day. Imagine the frustration!
But I also remembered that Sauda was able to operate her salon that day because she had already invested in the infrastructure necessary to overcome these additional obstacles. She used the Kiva loan money she received five months prior to purchase a generator to power her hair driers and buckets to hold spare water. So with or without running water and electricity, Sauda was able to make money on a busy Saturday. In the future when I read through the business descriptions of Kiva entrepreneurs who need funds for their business, I now have a stronger appreciation for the impact that a generator can have on a business that operates in countries like Tanzania.
Kiva on the border
My name is Max Schoening, and I’ll be a Kiva Fellow in Malaba, western Kenya for the next six weeks. I’m part of a team of six students from Brown University that will be posting updates onto Kiva.org, as well as making a short movie about Kiva to show at the Clinton Global Initiative Summit this fall. Along with being Kiva Fellows, we are also the Brown chapter of a national organization called Students of the World. Students of the World (www.studentsoftheworld.org) is an organization with a mission to send college students to developing countries in order to document creative solutions to problems affecting the developing world. After extensive research this year, we chose Kiva because of its innovative approach to micro-finance that addresses a lack of capital that microfinance institutions have to work with. Three of the students will be volunteering with KMET, located in Kisumu, a small city off of Lake Victoria. The rest of us are working with Peoples Micro-credit & Investment Bureau (PEMCI), a small but rapidly growing micro-credit institution servicing previously ignored communities in the Teso District.
For starters, I’ll introduce the team working with PEMCI. Justine McGowan is a rising senior who will graduate concentrating in both Development Studies and Gender Studies, an appropriate intersection of focuses for our work at PEMCI, as women’s empowerment is a fundamental aspect of the development work being done here. Justine is also a great resource for traveling, as she has traveled most extensively out of all of us. Last summer she had an internship with an NGO in Khartoum, Sudan, in the fall she studied in Morocco, and has also spent time in Tanzania teaching English. It’s pretty much a daily occurrence that I ask her “can I eat this.” Ryan Heath graduated from Brown in 2005 with a degree in Biology, experience in leadership education, and an interest in international work. He joined Students of the World last year on a trip to Addis Ababa to film a documentary on Voluntary Counseling and Testing for HIV, and spent this year helping organize this year’s project. Lastly, I’m a rising junior studying International Relations. I’m especially interested in how global media interacts with international issues, and have also developed an interest in documentary photography while doing Darfur advocacy for the past couple of years. Being a Kiva fellow presents an incredible opportunity for me to practice documentary photography and put it to good use, and Kiva is a relevant study on how the internet and media production is affecting development, building transnational connections, as well as hopefully changing the way that the developing world is perceived by the first world.
We arrived in Malaba, population approx. 7,000, on Sunday, May 27th. Malaba is a border town with Uganda, and the office is literally a 10 minute bike ride from crossing over. Torroro rock, a beautiful mesa shaped mountain in Uganda, protrudes from the skyline, and while riding through the countryside visiting entrepreneurs, the motorbike drivers often point to a valley dotted with reflecting roofs and say “there’s Uganda.”
As a border town, there are constantly trucks on the main strip, called Uganda Road. During the day, they pass through chugging out exhaust, and as it gets dark, drivers fill the Malaba center strip with their parked cabs. Malaba is a central exit point for cargo that enters Kenya in Mombassa, a port city on the eastern coast. The trucks pass through Nairobi and then exit Kenya through Malaba. Carrying huge loads (occasionally illicitly huge, as drivers sometimes bribe customs officials to surpass the weight limit—a corruption felt when you bump your head on the ceiling of the car while passing through town), these trucks depart from Malaba for Uganda, Southern Sudan, Rwanda, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Burundi, and sometimes Malawi. It’s pretty interesting imagining yourself in a main artery that connects the flows of East Africa.
As we’ve also learned about border towns, much of the business (obviously not Kiva business) is conducted illicitly, and at night. Whether capitalizing on a disparity in prices, or taxes between Uganda and Kenya, avoiding customs taxes, or the prostitution that services the truck drivers who must spend the night, there is definitely a shadow economy. This gives Malaba a distinct feeling of place also characterized by constant movement and transport. By far, however, the overwhelming majority of business in Malaba is hard honest work.
As far as we can tell, we are the only white people in Malaba, so when we walk through town all eyes are on us—at least for now. Children, and even some adults, shout “Mzungu”, Swahili for “white person” as we pass by. Even though it is not meant in a derogatory tone, it can certainly make you self-conscious. The surprise, and sometimes pure shock on the faces of the young children when we pass through the smaller towns in the Teso district is understandable. As the loan officers at PEMCI have explained, we may be the first white people they have ever seen.
PEMCI, the MFI we are working with, is a newly started micro-credit institution. Margaret Karuri, a Kenyan woman with extensive experience with development in Africa, started it two years ago with a vision to serve communities and businesses that had been previously neglected by commercial banks and even other MFIs. For instance, when we made a visit to businesses in Chemasiri, a small town on the outskirts of the Teso district, a successful farmer explained his town’s new experience of micro-credit. As he described, other banks and MFI’s had never served his town. He gushed about the powerful impact PEMCI’s loans have had on his community, especially the newfound hope felt by people in a town that had been previously isolated from capital to catalyze growth. He said that even in a short period of time the community has been connected with PEMCI, he has been able to notice an increase in quality of life—with decreased poverty, increased food production, and even a reduction of health problems. Personally, with a PEMCI loan, he had been able to increase his maize production to 6 acres, which lowered the price the local schools paid him.
Our daily work with PEMCI consists of going out into the field with loan officers and meeting with small businesses. Because PEMCI serves people throughout the entire Teso district, visiting borrowers can be up to a 30-40 minute ride on motorbike. These rides are probably one of the most fun parts of being a Kiva Fellow. Riding on the back of the bike with the loan officer driving, we go far into the countryside, many times on back roads. The landscape is stunningly beautiful with lush green hills and valleys, tall maize fields glistening in the noon sun, and red dirt roads. As we drive, we pass all sorts of people walking the roads, whether it be primary school children in bright blue or yellow uniforms, mamas carrying a baby on their back and grain in their arms, young men herding cattle, or an old man in a suit.
Once we arrive at the small towns, we meet with the loan groups. Loans are given out to groups of about 10-15 people. The communal nature of the loan giving allows for people to pool money together so that they can have enough seed money for a loan. The way the group works is that there is an order in the group in which members can receive loans. Once the first loan is given out, the second person in the order can only receive a loan once the first recipient makes loan repayments consistently on time. Following in the same pattern, the third person can only receive a loan once the second person has consistently made repayments, all the way up to the last person. From what I understand, this is the basic standard for micro-credit. The group format is crucial in many ways. It provides a support system for people to be able to make their repayments. If one business has a tough week, others in the group can contribute to their loan repayment, because they all have self-interest in each individual repaying their loan. Also, the groups create peer pressure to manage the business wisely, and make loan repayments on time. Moreover, from what I have been told here, the cooperation and mutual support that the loan groups establish transcends loan repayment and affects the ways that businesses interact in the community. It builds on an already established notion of common fate and mutual support in many of these rural communities, and facilitates cooperation and common interest among the business community.
Because PEMCI works with businesses that may have never received loans before, a large aspect of their work is geared towards teaching people how to borrow, save, and grow their businesses. The loan officers who go out into the field every day work extremely hard, and sometimes even seven days a week to help teach and organize businesses. The group setting for loan giving provides a good setting for the loan officers to be able to teach a larger audience, and it also allows for people to learn together and eventually teach each other.
Meeting with the Kiva entrepreneurs for one week, we have already heard many inspiring stories. People are overcoming tremendous personal challenges in places where much of the population makes a dollar a day or less. With Kiva loans, Rose Amoit has grown her clothing business to a point where she was able to purchase the land to buy her own store, rather than rent, and also expand the business to include a salon. This is a recently widowed woman who faces the responsibility of raising her child on her own. Peter Okibayi started a shop in Moding this year in order to provide for an enormous family. Already supporting eight of his own children, when his brother passed away three years ago, he took on the responsibility of the 19 children he had had through two wives. Already overcoming a childhood as an orphan that forced him into casual labor, Peter is working hard with Kiva’s help to expand his business and provide for 27 children.
We all look forward to continuing to meet with the people of western Kenya who have already been so welcoming. We’ll continue to relay our experiences through journals and the blog.
Daniela in Honduras
Hi, I’m Daniela, and I’ll be working with Prisma Microfinance in Tegucigalpa, Honduras’ capital. I’m spending a few days on the island of Roatán before heading to Tegucigalpa. Roatán is the largest of three islands that make up the Islas de Bahía (Bay Islands) just north of the mainland in the Caribbean Sea. Although there’s some technical debate over the definition of the various reefs, together, the Bay Islands and nearby Belize reef systems make up the world’s second largest coral reef after Australia’s
Great Barrier Reef! Too bad I’m not a scuba diver…
From what I’ve read, the Bay Islands and the north coast of Honduras are much different than the rest of the country. The islands have a mixed heritage of Africans, Caribs, Europeans, and mainlanders. There’s also a lot of foreign investors buying up ocean front property to develop into higher-end lodging. It’s easy to see what all the hype is about – white sand beaches, clear turquoise blue waters, coral reefs, and unbelievable amounts of sea life including dolphins, manta rays, and sea turtles. All this tourism provides a source of economy for the locals, providing a better standard of living than many of the people on the mainland. As a result, a fair number of mainlanders (as well as westerners) are immigrating to the islands in search of economic prosperity. Hopefully the island and the reef system will be able to handle the influx of residents, tourists, and development. I met another American today, who when I told him I was going to be working with Kiva, said, “I know Kiva. How can I get involved?” It seems that word is traveling fast about all the great things going on in microfinance!
I’m expecting Tegucigalpa, in southern/central Honduras to be much different. As the nation’s capital, it has over 1.5 million residents compared to less than 80,000 in the Bay Islands, and at 3,000 feet above sea level it will help fight against any malaria risk! I’m looking forward to meeting the staff at Prisma in a few days.
Delana in Ghana
Hi! My name is Delana Lensgraf, and I am a Kiva Fellow in Ghana working with the fabulous Kraban Support Foundation for the next ten weeks. Please check this blog regularly to learn more about Ghana and the entrepreneurs you support!
I arrived very late last Monday night. Nana, the director of Kraban Support Foundation, and Jacki, another Kiva fellow in Ghana, picked me up at the airport. As we drove through Accra, my eyes scanned the scenery, looking for hints of what the next ten weeks of my life would hold. Dark shadows stood on the street corners. Cars jetted across lanes in total chaos. Clutching the door handle a bit too tightly, I realized that I couldn’t see a single thing. The entire city was dark, but this shed a little light on what was to come.
Since October 2006, a severe power crisis has left most Ghanaians without power. Unless you can afford a generator, you’re out of luck. Fortunately, the power crisis has been very democratic; the power is off in the entire city about 70% of the time. Two hours before my flight to Ghana, I picked up a handy flashlight that doesn’t require batteries. I simply wind it up. Problem solved, right?
A little perplexed, I made it safely to my homestay. After six short hours of sleep, I was thrust into a tro-tro, ready to meet the entrepreneurs of Ghana. Tro-tros are rusty minivans that serve as the dominate form of transportation in the capital city, Accra. What was taking so long to get there? I sat smooshed and sweating for 3 ½ hours in a line of traffic. No one else in the tro-tro seemed the least bit worried. Some were amused by my obvious state of confusion. What on earth is taking so long? My wind up flashlight wasn’t going to solve this one. I was starting to connect the dots; no power means no traffic lights in a city of almost two million.
Two tro-tro rides, one taxi ride, and a short hike down a dirt road brought me to my first group meeting to meet the people whose pictures I had tucked away in my notebook. About 100 yards away, the women wait underneath a huge Banyan tree. Millicent, a Kraban Support Foundation employee, said to me, “The greeting for this group is Yonkodo (unity) and the response is Biakoye (strength). I nod. Wait…am I supposed to answer? What language is that?
Dressed in vibrant, traditional African dresses, twenty Ghanaian women look at me inquisitively. Beautiful green, yellow, and red fabrics wrap around their waists, holding tiny sleeping toddlers. At first it came out softly, more like a question: “Yonkodo.” The women look at each other, smiling. Smiles broke into laughs as they answered my greeting, “Biakoye!”
Millicent, Jacki, and I locked eyes. Unity is strength.
Tanuj in Kenya
Hi, I’m Tanuj Parikh and I’ll be living and working in Nakuru, Kenya (which is about 50 miles outside Nairobi, I believe) this summer for the MFI Ebony Foundation. I’m a 19 year old rising junior at Harvard and was born and raised in New York City. I just finished final exams last week and will be leaving for Kenya on June 12. I’ll be there for 10 weeks, living with a host family that Kiva and Ebony helped arrange for me.
I first became interested in microfinance when I got to college because it’s a pretty hot topic on campus – there are always panel discussions and information sessions about it, hosted by various student groups, international development organizations, economics professors, etc. From the beginning it struck me as an unbelievably powerful tool in the fight against global poverty and I’ve done all I can to get involved with it.
While searching for an internship for this summer, I knew that I wanted to be on the ground in Africa, a continent that I had never visited before. I also have several friends who have volunteered with various NGOs in different African countries the past few summers and they all raved about their experiences. While searching for an opportunity, I was given the recommendation to pursue a Kiva Fellow position and now here I am, about to embark in a few days.
I guess I don’t have much else to report, at least not until I get on the ground in Kenya. My best friend asked me the other day if I was nervous, and I told him a little. I’ve traveled to a lot of different countries before, but this will definitely be my longest stay anywhere by myself. It’s also sure to be a vastly different experience than the ones I’ve had in the past. That said though, I’m really looking forward to it. I can’t wait to get away from everything and everyone here and to immerse myself entirely in a new and unfamiliar country and culture. I know it’s going to be an amazing learning experience for me, both about Kenya and her people but also about myself.
